fridays
by countingonyou
Summary: high school parties never looked so good.


**a/n** 6/23/18: hello. I'm finally back after half a year of inactivity. I really really really wanted to write this oneshot (it took me nearly 3 months to write- i've left it unfinished for a while)! I've lost motivation for wmioa...if any of my readers are out here & are still interested in seeing more chapters, pls let me know. Also, did anyone watch the kissing booth? I was thinking of writing something based off of that!

ps, there is underage drug/alcohol usage. Just a heads up!

* * *

 **fridays**

…

a series of oneshots

* * *

 **1**.

(high school parties have never looked so good)

A cloud of smoke seeped out between Massie Block's lips as she took a hit from the rolled joint nestled between her pointer and middle finger. Her nails, painted a shade of champagne gold OPI polish, glinted under the light of Kemp Hurley's turkish crystal chandelier hanging in the middle of his venetian themed foyer. The turnout celebrating the Briarwood Octavian Country Day's varsity soccer team's win over a competing college prep school from Florida was typical for something thrown by the king of parties himself, who had an arm slung around Massie's shoulders as he cradled a bottle of scotch with the other. They sat on a brown leather chaise lounge surrounded by girls wrapped in tight Dolce and Gabbana dresses and guys with juuls in their hands and four hundred dollar Gucci sneakers on their feet, forming teams for a round of beer pong.

Kemp lazily glanced towards the door as a trio of blondes stumbled their way in. "Whaddya think, Mass? Should I start regulating sophomores who have an eighty percent chance of puking in my pool?"

Massie rolled her eyes, rimmed red and hooded, framed with long lashes that almost brushed her brow-bone. "Don't ask me stupid questions, Kemp," she said, pulling a satin hair tie off her wrist and gathering her wavy hair into a high ponytail. "They're literally like ten years old. They shouldn't be here without their babysitters."

"Ouch," he laughed. "I know you're fucking baked right now, but I would recommend not telling them you want them out of here. Just for the sake of me not wanting to deal with crying drunk girls."

"I'll do what I want, thank you very much." She fished a bottle of Visine out of her quilted periwinkle Chanel clutch and squirted the clear liquid into each pupil before passing it to Kemp.

He leaned back, running a hand through his dark hair. "So where's the lapdog?"

" _Very_ funny." Massie flicked his forehead and grabbed her phone out of one of the pockets on the short Grlfrnd denim skirt she wore. She unlocked her screen (it was a photo of her dog, Bean, in an all white Louis Vuitton ensemble) and scrolled through her messages to read a text her boyfriend sent. "And he's on his way. Something about buying more cases of beer because all _you_ did was order kegs."

"What can I say," Kemp smirked, his brown eyes gleaming with the mischief that seems to fill him to the brim. "I like when girls do keg stands." He shifted on the chaise and stood up, obsidian Italian leather boots contrasted against the cream marble floor, offering a hand to Massie. "Let's go to the kitchen," he commanded.

Her eyes narrowed as she followed him down a hallway decorated in hundred thousand-dollar paintings set in gold plated frames. "You just want to get rid of me."

Kemp shrugged, his wide shoulders encased in a black Fossil t-shirt, moved up and down. "I'm not gonna deny it. I wanna get my dick sucked and you have the fucking munchies." He opened a cabinet and launched a bag of chips at Massie's face.

"These aren't even _organic_." She caught it before it hit her nose. "See you later, asshole," she said, wiggling her thin fingers.

"Make sure Harrington knows where you are." Kemp patted her head and downed the rest of his scotch before exiting the room; he was so tall his head brushed the glass- encased light hanging by the doorway.

The door to the pantry room swung open, revealing a grinning Dylan Marvil in a baggy YEEZUS hoodie balancing a clear container of Apple Jacks and several bottles of fruit punch flavored Gatorade. "I'm surprised he hasn't contracted some form of syphilis." The redhead kicked the door back with her foot, wobbling over to the kitchen island and dumping everything onto the marble countertop.

Massie scoffed, stubbing out her joint against the sink. "He definitely has, he probably didn't want his ego to take a hit, because we'd never let him live it down." She unzipped the silk bomber jacket she wore and tied it around her waist. "Are you taking that stuff somewhere or were you planning on eating your weight in cereal for the whole night?"

"I was bringing this up for Chris and Claire," Dylan blushed. "And I'm still on my liquid diet, so Apple Jacks are _totally_ off limits."

"It's convenient that your diet includes vodka."

"I had, like ten shots already." Dylan flipped her shiny, straight Japanese-permed hair behind her shoulder. "I feel like losing three pounds is in my near future."

Massie gathered the Gatorade bottles and walked with Dylan, past a couple having an argument, up a flight of stairs. "You're gonna need to drink way more than that, because you're a _tank_." They turned left and Dylan knocked twice on the door at the end of a hallway.

"What's the password?" Chris Plovert's voice was muffled by the mahogany wood.

"Chris is a loser!" Massie sang.

"That is offensive and _not_ the phrase I'm looking for."

"Open the door, dude!" Dylan shouted.

Chris' tan face and browline glasses greeted them. "Bitches." He held the door open for Massie and Dylan before twisting the lock. They were in Kemp's bedroom, a spacious one thousand square foot room with a remodeled ensuite bathroom. There was a gray sectional sofa against the far wall, facing a flat screen television and surround sound speakers and cherry wood flooring covered with a black fur rug. A California king bed, nestled on a risen space, with a duvet and tempurpedic pillows faced two sliding glass doors blocking the entrance to a balcony. Kemp had them drop off their bags in the closet of his room the night before, so they could stay over if they were too shitfaced to drive home. "I've been trying to teach Claire how to play Fortnite, but her motor skills aren't as intact as I thought."

The blonde lying on the couch stuck an arm up and waved. Her usually neatly combed hair was in two loose French braids, and she was missing a shoe.

Massie raised an eyebrow at Chris.

"Don't look at _me_ , Mass!" He turned and walked over to the game console and picked up a wireless controller. "She had _one_ beer."

Dylan plopped down next to Claire and uncapped a Gatorade. "Here."

Claire sat up and gave a lopsided smile. "Thanks, Dyl! Have I ever told you how much I love you?" She asked, guzzling the drink down.

"Plenty of times," Dylan laughed. "Cam probably thinks you're cheating on him with me."

"Oh!" Claire's sky-colored eyes widened. "Cam! Is he here?"

Massie opened the mini fridge by Kemp's bed and poured peach-flavored Svedka into an ombre tinted shot glass decorated with race cars. "He's with Derrick and Josh; they're on their way."

"Sweeeeeet," Chris said. "I'll finally be able to play with some seasoned veterans."

"You little bitch," Dylan grumbled. "I'm just as good as Hotz-"

"Which is why being on your team sucks ass." Chris interrupted. Dylan shoved his shoulder.

Claire giggled. "That's gross!" She stood up with the grace of a newborn deer, and held onto Massie's shoulder. "I want to go swimming."

"Did you bring a swimsuit?"

"Yeah," Claire nodded frantically and dragged her to Kemp's walk-in closet. There were leather jackets hung up neatly and pairs of jeans spilling out of one of his dresser drawers. Claire bent down and unzipped a green and blue floral Vera Bradley duffel bag near a shelf filled with Nike footwear, and pulled out a blue and white polka dotted bikini set. "Are you swimming with your skirt on, Mass?" Claire took off the t shirt dress she had on.

Shaking her head, Massie wiggled out of her tight skirt and unlaced her nude lace up Dolce Vita wrap sandals. She was left with a cream colored one piece that had a plunging neckline and barely covered her ass. Derrick would get a kick out of _that_. She unraveled her hair and ran her fingers through the chestnut locks that ran just below her chest.

She and Claire held hands and left Kemp's room, not before hearing Dylan wolf-whistle while Chris shouted at the t.v.

"Mass!" A raven haired girl called. She bounded over to them, her boobs almost bursting out of the short, square neck mini dress she wore. "Have you seen Josh?" Her round, dark cat eyes rimmed with mascara-coated lashes, widened.

"Hey Leesh," Claire slurred, reaching out to give Alicia Rivera a hug.

Alicia gave her a curt nod in acknowledgement, and gave Massie her full attention. "Have you?"

"He should be here soon, he was getting drinks with Derrick and Cam."

Alicia pouted, her bottom lip painted in red jutted out. "I've been waiting for him for like an hour!"

Massie rolled her eyes. "He's not worth your time, Leesh. I heard Kori Gedman gave him a handjob in the boy's bathroom in the West wing."

"Don't you think I know that? God, he's been with so many girls it's fucking insane," Alicia said. "But I still have feelings for him, and maybe once we hook up, he'll start seeing me exclusively."

"I don't have to tell you what I think about that, do I?"

"No," Alicia crossed her arms. "It's whatever. At least I look hot."

"That's the spirit!" Claire piped up. A blonde baseball player walked past the three girls with a bong his hand; he winked at Alicia and walked into one of Kemp's guest bedrooms.

"I'm gonna go hang out with Zach, catch you guys later," Alicia blew them an air kiss and sauntered after him.

* * *

Kemp's backyard was as lavish and extravagant as his house. An L shaped pool, lined with eggshell colored lounge chairs that were shaded with circular umbrellas, had mini waterfalls providing filtration for the chlorinated water. Four cabanas built out of wood and covered in gauzy fabric were spread out across the tiled ground, each housing flat beds and wet bars.

Resting on a watermelon floatie with her third cosmopolitan in hand, Massie watched as Claire played a drunk game of Marco Polo with Strawberry Adams in the shallow end of the pool. They were so shitfaced they could barely swim without swallowing pool water. Massie sipped her drink and tilted her head back, listening to the SZA song that blasted through outdoor speaker. Just as she began singing along to the chorus, someone bumped into her floatie, causing her foot to hit the side of the pool. Massie sat up, annoyed and drunk, ready to tell whoever it was that bumped into her to _get the fuck out of there_ , when Kristen Gregory's mediterranean eyes met hers. Kristen's dirty blond hair was pulled up in a tight ponytail and a wide smile decorated her face.

"I was ready to sic Kemp on you," Massie's glare softened.

Kristen pulled herself up next to her and gave a quick hug. "Sorry, Mass. Wasn't watching." White powder dusted her nostrils.

"Clearly." Massie said. With all of the financial problems going on at home combined with the pressure to excel academically and athletically at BOCD, it was no secret that Kristen occasionally indulged in drugs to deal with her stress. "You have a little something under your nose."

"Oh." Kristen wiped the cocaine off her face with the back of a jittery hand. "Have you seen Chris? Dempsey told me that we have a Euro test on Monday and I want his flashcards."

"He's in Kemp's room with Dyl," Massie leaned her head against the floatie, watching an upside-down game of beer pong.

"'Kay, laters, Mass!" Kristen pecked her cheek before slipping off the floatie and swimming to the edge of the pool to lift herself out. She gave a polite smile to two tall boys, one with tousled black hair and the other a sandy dark blonde, both in green letterman jackets, who nodded at her as they walked by. Onlookers watched them swagger towards the pool in long strides, receiving congratulatory claps on the back from the night's win and appreciative glances at their chiseled chins and wide shoulders.

Those doofuses enjoyed making an entrance even more than Massie did. Her copper eyes narrowed as a Olivia Ryan intercepted the blonde. _Homewrecker_. The darker haired boy reached Massie's corner of the pool.

"Whaddup, Mass?" Cameron Fisher ruffled her hair, regardless of his knowledge that she _hated_ that. His lips, surrounding two rows of perfectly straight and white teeth, stretched into a grin.

"You're late," she said, swatting his hand away.

"We had to take a little detour. My mom called me and asked me to pick up some stuff from the dry cleaner's."

"Take Claire inside, will you?" Massie pointed a finger, decorated with three Cartier rings, towards her friend who had her cheek pressed against a hand railing, singing along to the song pounding out of Kemp's speakers with her eyes half closed. "Kemp'll throw a fit if she pukes in his pool."

Cam rolled the sleeves of his jacket up to his elbows and grabbed a towel from a nearby lounge chair. "You guys are staying over tonight, yeah?" He cupped his hands around his mouth and called his girlfriend over. Claire breast-stroked to the water as fast as she could, but swimming drunk was like clawing through frozen butter.

"Hey, Clairebear." Cam bent down and patted her face with the towel. "Wanna go inside and watch some New Girl? The finale's on tonight." He was so whipped.

"Okay." Claire slurred, planting a wet kiss on his cheek as he effortlessly pulled her out of the pool and wrapped her in the towel. "You coming, Mass?" Claire slung an arm around Cam's waist.

She waved them off, setting her cosmopolitan on the tiled ground and ducking into the water to slick her hair back. "I'll be in a sec." Cam shrugged and led his girlfriend away. When Massie resurfaced, the blonde in the letterman jacket appeared, standing in front of her. Massie slipped on a mask of composure, well as well as she could, considering the warm, fuzzy feeling the combination of alcohol and weed gave her.

"Hi baby," Derrick Harrington leaned in, softly grabbing her neck and kissing her lips. "Did you have fun at our game?"

Massie pursed her lips. "Of course." No one said girlfriends couldn't be supportive _and_ angry.

"Awesome." Derrick took off his jacket, revealing the plain white t shirt he wore underneath that fit snugly around his wide shoulders. She looked at the sky. _Why the fuck did her boyfriend have to be so hot?_ "You cold? It's freezing out here."

"The pool is heated. I'm good." Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Olivia staring at him like she had x- ray vision.

He shifted, stuffing his hands into the front pockets of his Diesel jeans. Massie tried not to stare at the thick veins running up his forearms. "I stopped at yours on the way and took Bean on a walk like you told me to."

"Thanks."

"Alright, Mass," Derrick started, furrowing his eyebrows. "What's wrong? Did I forget to tell you I was gonna be late?"

She ignored the flutter her heart made when her eyes met his, and crossed her arms. "You tell me, Derrick. You were flirting with Olivia, like, two feet away from me!"

His eyes flickered down to her chest before he scoffed. "All she did was tell me how well I played. That's hardly a conversation fit for flirting."

"Still," Massie slurred, "She's been eyeing you like a fucking T-bone steak and you shouldn't encourage it by letting her talk to you!"

Derrick laughed, like he frequently did when he thought she was being cute. "I think you're just really drunk and looking for something to yell at me for." They had the occasional argument, but it usually involved her not being able to decide where they were going for dinner.

"Will you take me seriously?" Massie whined.

"I always do," Derrick said. The sides of his mouth turned up. "Now, if you want to keep lecturing me, can we go inside? Because I have a really strong urge to wrap you like a burrito with fifty of these towels."

She raised her eyebrows. "Is it the bathing suit?"

Derrick shrugged. "I shouldn't be complaining, since the bikinis you wear at my house cover ten times less skin, but I'm honestly getting annoyed." He glanced at Landon Crane, who was leaning against the wet bar sipping a Corona and couldn't keep his eyes off Massie's chest.

"When are you going to get over the fact that we dated?" Massie giggled. He was adorable when he was jealous.

"Probably never."

"It was for like a month, before I realized he's the biggest perv to walk the Earth."

"Is that supposed to make me feel better?"

"Now you know how I feel when Olivia grabs your arm like a hungry chimpanzee finding the last banana on a tree."

"Never thought of it like that."

"Yup."

"I'll make a note to tell Leesh to let Olivia know you'll attack her the next time she sits with me in math."

Massie stroked his smooth cheek with the back of her wet hand. "Glad we reached an agreement. Grab me a towel, will you?" She swam to the cerulean tiled steps and accepted the red and white striped towel, drying herself off, while he watched her with his arms crossed over his chest.

"Jesus, your ass looks good," he groaned. "Can you hurry it up?"

She glared at him. "We are _not_ having sex here. The last time we did, Kemp walked in on us and has been teasing me about it ever since."

Derrick held his hands up. "Can't blame me for trying." When she tossed the towel on an empty lounge chair, he gave her his jacket to cover herself up. "Maybe if we weren't doing doggystyle, he'd make less jokes about you being on your hands and knees."

Massie patted his chest. "Let's not revisit the past, shall we?"

* * *

How was that? I know the characters aren't super fleshed out- I wanted to keep everything light and fun. I was thinking of doing a whole series of oneshots of Fridays, like a soccer game, wedding, date, day in high school, or something along those lines...


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